The Laws of Life and Love
by KittyKatZorse
Summary: Sequel to The Laws of Familiarity. Sherlock/OC Rebecca Francis. A series of Oneshots and ficlets following on from my previous fic. Showing snippets of Rebecca and Sherlock's life together.
1. Chapter 1

**If you haven't already, I urge you to read my Laws of Familiarity story as this series of one-shots and ficlets takes place after the events of that fic. Just to give you a brief blurb- Rebecca Francis is Sherlock's lawyer, she has worked for the detective for almost five years. Her house was destroyed in an explosion that almost claimed her, and her little dog Toby's lives. She was invited to stay with Sherlock and John in 221b and has been residing there ever since. She has had run-ins with the evil Moriarty and Irene Adler and it was only through this did Sherlock realise his true feelings for her. **

**Still, I urge you to read that fic before this one.**

**Again, this will be more a series of one-shots than a running story. I hope you all enjoy.**

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The first time Rebecca told Sherlock she loved him.

Rebecca stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering against the imaginary breeze that passed through the room.

Biting her lip, she glanced quickly at her watch.

It had been hours ago that Sherlock had shuffled off, trying to convince her that he was going to Barts. But Rebecca knew better.

Even just a few weeks living with the detective had taught her something.

The first thing she had done once the dark-haired fiend had pecked her lightly on the cheek and swept from the room, was to check his blog.

He had gone to the pool with the Bruce-Partington plans.

At first Rebecca had dabbled with the idea of going after him, but thought better of it. She had had enough dealings with Moriarty...plus Sherlock knew what he was doing.

She knew he had double-bolted the flat before his leaving and the fact that he cared and worried about her made her heart flutter.

And yet she couldn't help but have her doubts.

Doubts that Sherlock would come back alive.

Holding back the urge to bite her nails, Rebecca shifted the yellowing net curtains to look out onto the lamp lit street.

It was almost 3.30 when she finally heard the front door slam and footsteps run up the wooden staircase.

She got to her feet only to find Sherlock and John walk into the room both sopping wet.

"What the hell happened?" she cried marching towards them, her face forming into a frown. "Where have you been?"

Sherlock smirked, glancing at his doctor friend. "John and I decided to go for a late night swim," he chuckled.

But Rebecca was in no mood for his jokes, and with that she stormed towards him, her hand colliding with his chest.

"Don't even start Sherlock, I've been worried out of my mind," she cried angrily. "Where were you? And why are you so wet?"

John gave a weary sigh and removed his wet jacket. "We had a bit of a run in with Mr Moriarty."

Rebecca scowled at Sherlock. "I gathered that by your last blog post," she said snidely, giving the detective another angry shove.

"It was necessary," uttered Sherlock calmly.

"Necessary?" said Rebecca loudly, as John raised his eyebrows and made his way to the quiet of his bedroom.

Sherlock glanced at her darkly.

"How the hell are dealings with Moriarty ever necessary?" she asked, her eyes glistening worriedly.

Sherlock looked at her sympathetically, as she gave him yet another shove.

"Gosh, sometimes Sherlock, you get me so angry," she said with a frown. "I was worried about you..."

"There was no need to be," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Yes there was," she said loudly. "I love you...I was concerned..."

Sherlock gave her a sudden look, as Rebecca paled, stepping back embarrassedly.

"Well what I mean was..." she mumbled, but her eyes caught sight of the smirk that had appeared on Sherlock's face. "Oh shut up..." she said glaring at him accusingly.

Sherlock raised his hands in amused defeat. "I didn't say a word."

"No but you were going to," she said angrily, pointing a finger at him. "Ugh...I hate you sometimes."

And with that she waltzed off in the direction of the bedrooms, arms folded across herself crossly.

Sherlock smiled, following her to their sleeping quarters. "Then I guess what we have could be described as a love hate relationship," he uttered.

Rebecca turned to look at him with a scowl as he followed her into their room. "Oh shut up," she snapped flinging a towel in his direction.

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**Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who alerted and favourite this story. Also thanks to those who reviewed: Laudine, starbrightnights, Tracy137, Vilentiel, Look-Me-Up, My-Lover-Gren-Gren, NotxYetxDead, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, ILoveHLaurie, Ceville, superman, WordsWrittenByHeart, blod1tatws, FallingFree10, MyPartnerInCrime, insaneradio, OhTex and ToryTigress92.**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

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The first time Rebecca prayed for a moments peace.

Rebecca was trying to concentrate.

She was sat at the table, a huge stack of paperwork sprawled out in front of her that she had to get through- _tonight_.

Though her abilities _were_ being tested due to one thing.

Sherlock Holmes.

The detective had no cases. And he was, during periods such as these, horrifically bored.

First he had been angry at his humdrum circumstances, taking to using the wall as target practice, or playing a loud screechy tune on his violin.

But after a few days he had taken to tailing Rebecca about the flat and annoying her at every given moment.

Presently the dark-haired detective was lounging across the sofa in his pyjamas, the hefty weight of Toby lying across his chest.

Sherlock stared into the dog's eyes intensely, as if scrutinising the pup's very thoughts.

"Have you ever thought of renaming him?" asked the detective in a sudden low voice, snapping Rebecca from her thoughts on probate estate.

"Who? Toby?" said Rebecca with a frown glancing over at the detective.

"Yes, why on earth you chose the name Toby for I'll never understand," sighed Sherlock, lifting up one of the dog's ears carelessly.

Rebecca turned back to her work, scratching out a long paragraph. "I like the name Toby," she murmured.

"But he doesn't look like a Toby," said Sherlock frowning.

Rebecca sighed. "He's a dog, I don't think he minds," she uttered, not looking up from her work.

Sherlock pouted, tilting his head at the dog."Well he should," he said sharply. "Lord knows if I was called something ridiculous like Toby, I'd get John's gun and probably shoot myself."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Well it's lucky you're called something normal like Sherlock then isn't it?" she said sarcastically.

Sherlock turned his head to her, his eyes passing darkly over her face, before he turned back towards the dog on his chest.

"I think he's more of a Barnaby," said the detective running his slender hand over Toby's head, smoothing his short fur down.

Rebecca turned over a page, her eyes zooming down the text.

"Or perhaps Montgomery," sniffed Sherlock, continuing to stoke the happy dog. "Or Edison."

Rebecca, who had now read the same sentence six times, gritted her teeth. She held her breath waiting for the detective's next suggestion, but after a minute or so she guessed that he had run out of ideas. She had just got mid-way through a particularly sticky paragraph on zipper clauses when the detective suddenly piped up.

"Gladstone!" he yelled, causing Toby to almost jump off his chest.

Rebecca let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and turning to Sherlock in annoyance.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, re-shuffling her papers.

"Gladstone. It's what he should be renamed," said Sherlock patting Toby's head. "No more of this Toby business."

Rebecca got to her feet, not even listening to the detective any longer.

"Whatever Sherlock," she said huffily, hoisting her papers into her briefcase and marching to the door.

Sherlock cocked an eye in her direction suddenly. "Where are you going?" he said looking affronted.

"Coffee shop down the road so that I can finish my work in peace," she said with a scowl.

Sherlock suddenly leapt to his feet, sending Toby tumbling to the floor with a yelp.

"Great I've always wanted to see if they really are using premium coffee beans in that place, I have my suspicions that they might be serving me instant," he said pacing across the room still in his pyjamas.

He made to grab his coat but Rebecca suddenly stepped in his path, blocking his way.

"No Sherlock, you can stay here," she said sharply. "Even Toby knows that command!"

And with that Rebecca hurried out of the room, as Sherlock's lips formed into a pout and he flung himself moodily back down onto the sofa.

"He's called Gladstone!" shouted the detective, as the front door slammed shut.

But Rebecca didn't care, he could call Toby whatever he wanted just as long as she could have an hour's peace and quiet.

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**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the reviews for the previous chapter. Thanks to: Evanescence2189, MyPartnerInCrime, Tracy137, ILoveHLaurie, TheDoctorsMistress, LiLiAnKa, GracefullyClumsy, starbrightnights, OhTex, Vilentiel, insaneradio and Ceville.**

**This is not my best chapter but I think it's kind of cute.**

**Hope you enjoy...**

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The first time Sherlock was jealous...

Sherlock Holmes arrived back at 221b and slammed the front door behind him.

He had had a very bad day.

The case he had been working on had gone horribly wrong. Just when he thought he had cracked it, Lestrade and his team had barrelled in and ruined everything.

The only witness had scarpered and Sherlock Holmes was left with nothing but a very bad mood.

He expected to come home to a quiet house, where he could sit and play the violin for hours and think of a different way of catching the perpetrator.

But climbing the stairs towards the flat, Sherlock begun to wish he had stayed at the station.

A loud screeching sound could be heard, that at first Sherlock believed to be someone having a go at playing his violin, but as he drew closer he realised he was mistaken.

Entering the room he stood agape at the sight that met his eyes.

Rebecca and John were huddled up on the sofa, a large bowl of popcorn between them, both staring intently at the screen.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the closeness of the pair before his gaze was drawn to the television screen across the room.

Bright lights and brash colours emitted from the screen as a heavily made-up twenty something stood centre stage belting out an atrocious rendition of an odious pop song.

"I hope Cowell gives her hell for this performance," muttered Rebecca, popping a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

John nodded, as he suddenly registered the detective in the room for the first time. "Oh hey Sherlock."

Rebecca turned her head instantly, flashing the detective a sweet smile. "How was the case?" she asked kindly.

But Sherlock didn't answer, his eyes glued to the screen. It was a moment before he spoke.

"What is this?" he said testily, gesturing to the TV which now showed a panel of cheesy celebrity judges.

"The X Factor," said John with a shrug. "We've agreed that Rebecca and I will audition as a double act next year."

He shot Rebecca a cheeky grin, and the young lawyer nudged him back, a laugh escaping her lips.

"No we haven't," she said giggling and staring up at Sherlock. "John's just being an idiot."

The doctor laughed but Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"Looks incredibly riveting," uttered Sherlock sarcastically, tearing his eyes from the screen. "I'm sure you and John have had a wonderful evening."

Rebecca and John glanced at each other as Sherlock swept moodily from the room.

"What's up with him?" shrugged John, turning back towards the television.

Rebecca bit her lip and got quickly to her feet, almost spilling the bowl of popcorn on the floor.

"Hey where are you going?" said John, righting the bowl on his lap. "You're going to miss that group you like."

But Rebecca was already mid-way through the kitchen, heading for her and Sherlock's bedroom.

Rapping gently on the door, she entered the bedroom to find Sherlock stretched out across the bed fully-dressed his eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Sherlock honey," said Rebecca, almost cringing at her sickly sweet words. "What's wrong?"

But the detective didn't answer.

Quietly Rebecca came to sit beside Sherlock's eerily still form.

"Bad day?" she pressed, reaching out and placing a hand on Sherlock's suited shoulder.

His eyes suddenly snapped open at her touch.

"I need a cigarette," he said in a low voice, gazing up at the ceiling.

Rebecca frowned. "No Sherlock, you've been doing so well," she said cocking her head at him disappointedly. "Haven't you got any nicotine patches?"

The detective suddenly rolled up his sleeve in one swift movement to reveal four patches pressed to his smooth forearm.

"You're wearing four?" cried the young lawyer in awe. "Must have been a bad day then."

Sherlock threw her a dark look.

"Understatement of the century," he muttered, but he did not elaborate.

Rebecca bit her lip worriedly. "Do you want to go out? We could go to that sushi place we visited last week."

Sherlock pouted, turning on his side and facing away from Rebecca. "I wouldn't want to drag you away from your TV show...and John."

Rebecca frowned. "What?" she uttered disbelievingly.

"Well the two of you looked very cosy," said Sherlock accusingly.

Rebecca got to her feet.

"We were watching TV," she said affronted, folding her arms across herself. "You don't like that sort of show anyway!"

"Well I might have liked that one. You didn't even ask me," he said moodily.

Rebecca huffed moving around the bed, and standing in Sherlock's line of vision.

"Come on," she urged, crouching down to his level, resting her arms on the bed. "There's no need to be jealous."

"I am not jealous," said Sherlock, narrowing his eyes.

"Well good," smiled Rebecca, pecking him gently on the lips. "Because the only person I'm interested in is you."

Sherlock sat up straight, a smug smile appearing on his face.

"So do you want to finish watching it with us?" asked Rebecca sweetly, checking her watch. "There's only ten minutes left."

Sherlock agreed, following Rebecca into the living room, where John sat, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Everything alright?" asked the doctor, as the couple entered the room.

"Yep," said Rebecca with a smile, taking up her seat on the sofa.

She had just shuffled across to make room for Sherlock on her left, but the detective had other ideas, instead pushing his way between John and Rebecca.

"Comfortable?" said John bitterly as he shifted along the couch.

"Very," sniffed Sherlock, as Rebecca shook her head.

The trio watched the rest of the show in silence, watching the final two acts perform.

Rebecca who was sitting close to Sherlock, her head resting against his chest, glanced up at him, watching the show with a bored sort of look on his face.

Ten minutes later the credits rolled and Rebecca turned to the dark-haired man.

"So did you enjoy that?" she asked eagerly, hoping for some common interest that the couple could finally share.

"It was...illuminating," lied Sherlock, glad he would never have to sit through something like that again.

Rebecca beamed up at him. "Great," she said clapping her hands together. "There's still 8 weeks left of it. This is going to be so fun. Finally something we can do together."

Sherlock shot her a forced smile as Rebecca shifted off him and made her way into the kitchen to make them all a cup of tea.

"And that is why jealousy is never a good idea," said John, with a mischievous grin, patting the gaping detective on the shoulder and slinking out of the room.

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**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Finally after months of waiting I finally got a start date for my job at the National Gallery in London. Very, very excited!**

**Anyway, thanks to those who took the time out to review the last chapter. Thanks to kissesandcuddles, FallingFree10, ILoveHLaurie, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex, everythingchanges, RockChick139, MyPartnerInCrime, insaneradio, Faith Rivens, starbrightnights and Ceville.**

**I know its a quick update but just wanted to get as many chapters out as I can. Hope you enjoy.**

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The first time Rebecca realised how much she cared

Rebecca was sick.

She had a cold to be precise.

First Sarah had had it. Then John. Now Rebecca.

And she was certainly feeling sorry for herself.

She had shuffled out of her lonely bedroom, her duvet wrapped around her, looking for some sympathy.

Perhaps from John, and most definitely from...

"Sherlock!" she said loudly as she took in the long, slender form that was draped across the sofa in the corner of the room.

He was lying there, a thick woollen blanket pulled up to his chin and a dozen tissues littered across the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" said Rebecca, though she already knew the answer.

The detective's long nose was red and sore-looking and every few moments he let out a slurpy sniff.

"Cant you guess?" uttered Sherlock in an agonised voice. "I'm dying!"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "You're not dying," she said unsympathetically. "You've just got a bit of a cold."

"It's pneumonia," he argued indignantly.

"Man-flu," Rebecca smugly corrected him as he shot her a dark look.

"Now come on move over," she said coming over to sit beside him on the sofa.

Sherlock lifted his head for a moment, allowing Rebecca a chance to plop down onto the warm sofa, before he lowered himself down again, his head resting upon her lap.

She gently placed a cool hand to his burning forehead before stroking back his dark hair.

"Hmmm you are hot," she murmured, taking note of his high-temperature.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at her. "Thanks," he uttered fiendishly.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "I don't mean like that," she snapped. "Have you taken anything?"

Sherlock frowned up at her suddenly.

"I'm clean," he said in a low voice, gazing up at her with honest eyes.

Rebecca glanced down at him, realising her mistake. "No I didn't mean..." she said, trailing off.

She moved her hand down and stoked his cheek with her fingertips.

"I just meant have you taken anything for your cold...a Lemsip? Some Beechams?" she pressed.

But Sherlock shook his head. "Do we have anything?"

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. "It's your flat, I guess you'd know if you did," she muttered.

Sherlock glanced up at her suddenly.

"It's your flat too," he said slowly, causing a lump to form in Rebecca's throat.

She gazed down into the detective's blue eyes, but didn't say a word.

It was a moment before Sherlock spoke again. "What else is good for the flu?"

Rebecca grinned. "You've got a cold Sherlock, I don't think it's the flu," she reassured. "Um...maybe chicken soup, do we have any of that?"

"Hmmmm, check the cupboards," commanded the detective.

Rebecca sighed, slowly getting to her feet and shuffling across the room and into the kitchen.

Bending down she examined the contents of a few cupboards.

"Gherkins, sardines, tinned peaches..." she muttered, holding up each peeling label to the light.

Finally after much searching she found it.

One small tin of chicken soup.

This would never feed both of them.

Letting out a long sigh, Rebecca got to work.

Five minutes later, she emerged from the kitchen, a steaming bowl of chicken soup in her hands.

With great care she passed it to Sherlock.

"Careful," she said as he lifted the spoon to his lips. "It very hot."

She watched as Sherlock gently blew on the liquid and placed the spoon into his mouth.

Rebecca's stomach rumbled hungrily as she watched him eat but she let out a soft smile nonetheless.

"Is it okay?" she said perching on the armrest of the chair as Sherlock glanced up towards her.

"Delicious," he said taking another mouthful. "Didn't you want any?"

Rebecca bit her lip, and shook her head. "Not really hungry," she lied, getting to her feet and moving back into the kitchen. "Now where's that spare hot water bottle?"

With a sick Sherlock around Rebecca knew that she had no time to be ill.

She had someone else to take care of.

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**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hmmm not too happyt about where this fic is going. It's really hard to think of Sherlock/Rebecca situations without making them really fluffy and un-Sherlock like. I'm thinking of doing another fic, this time a real sequel based on the lives of Sherlock and Rebecca three or five years on, it would contain much the same type of drama as the previous fic. Would any of you be interested in reading it?**

**Anyway, thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter: sci-fi geek1133, Look-Me-Up, GracefullyClumsy, Ceville, Evanescence2189, TheDoctorsMistress, OhTex, Faith Rivens, MyPartnerInCrime, ILoveHLaurie, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, samcarter1022 and insaneradio.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Not such a bad day

Rebecca was having a bad day.

Of course some could suggest that any day that contained lots of paperwork to be going over and a snooty client that lived all the way across town could never be a good day.

But today seemed to be the worst.

Firstly she had woken up with a throbbing headache.

Travelled across town on the crowded tube only to be told that her client was out of town and failed to cancel their appointment before-hand.

So, Rebecca had traipsed back to 221b in the pouring rain, her umbrella turning inside out on her first attempt to put it up.

And a certain fact that made this day wholly worse was that it was a certain time of month that Rebecca and the rest of womankind hated the most.

Something only mother-nature was responsible for.

Feeling emotional and teary Rebecca slumped down into a chair in the living room holding her head in her hands.

She willed herself not to cry.

Suddenly and without any notice a folder was carelessly dropped into her lap.

"What's this?" she said glancing up at Sherlock who was slinking across the room in his usual rumpled suit.

"The court case documents," she said in a nonchalant voice, standing up and admiring the bullet holes etched into the wall opposite.

Rebecca growled. "Sherlock we went over that case yesterday, I asked you if there was any more paperwork still to come and you said no," she said in a pained voice.

The detective shrugged. "It slipped my mind," he uttered flinging himself down onto the sofa and opening up his laptop.

Rebecca let out a moan.

More work.

She had thought all the paperwork for that case was done with but now she would have to start over.

"Slipped your mind!" she cried angrily. "Do you know how much more work this has caused me? Work I haven't got time for!"

She quickly got to her feet, throwing the file down onto the table as Sherlock glanced up at her.

"But oh no," she continued. "Do you care? I very much doubt it. You don't care that I've had a bad day and am not really in the mood for more paperwork. Oh no," she said in a mocking voice, "because I'm Sherlock Holmes, I can do anything, I'm a high-functioning sociopath..."

Sherlock stared up at her as she mocked him. His eyes running over Rebecca strained features and angry expression.

He continued to watch her, saying nothing as she ran from the room, tears glinting in her eyes.

With a sigh he placed his hands to his face.

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Rebecca stood in the bathroom, letting a lone tear fall from her eyes.

She rubbed her tear away with one hand and her aching stomach with the other.

Willing herself not to cry, she straightened up and gazed into the mirror before her.

She had been childish to snap at Sherlock like that, as much as it pained her to say so, she loved him and didn't want to treat him in that way.

Taking a deep breath she forced a smile at her reflection and opened the door heading back through the hallway and into the living room.

When she got there she noticed that Sherlock was gone.

Regretting her actions, she quietly sat back down at the table, hoping he hadn't run of somewhere in a bad mood.

He always got himself into trouble with a bad mood.

Letting out a long sigh, Rebecca pulled the large stack of paperwork towards her.

But before she could even lift her pen, a large mug of tea was placed in front of her.

As she glanced up, she saw Sherlock slinking off, his mouth turned up into a creased smile.

She didn't mutter a thank you or even a sorry, but as both got to work in silence, both Sherlock and Rebecca had large lingering smiles upon their faces.

So perhaps it wasn't such a bad day after all.

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**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oooh I have already got started on the sequel to this and the Laws of Familiarity and I have to say-it's going to be a corker. Very excited. **

**But in the meantime I want to update this fic full of one shots and thank those who reviewed my previous chapter: blod1tatws, Gen, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, OhTex, LilyHale21, LostInTheMomentinLove, Kazza, Ceville, MyPartnerInCrime, starbrightnights (thanks for the great advice), punkette, Faith Rivens,** ** sci-fi geek1133, ILoveHLaurie, insaneradio, lizzie, Pam Briggs and daftrosh.**

**I'm loving all your wonderful reviews.**

**Sorry this chapter isn't all that great and it's very short but hey soon enough there will be an exciting new fic for you all to enjoy!**

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The first time Sherlock realised just how lucky he was

Rebecca and Sherlock were sat a table in the corner of a romantically lit restaurant.

After a well-timed joke by Sherlock about the appalling service they had received, Rebecca let out a sing-song laugh, which seemed to fill the whole room with brightness.

Her long caramel hair was loose, with carefully curled ringlets falling past her shoulders, and a sleek long-sleeved dress completed her outfit.

Sherlock bit his lip, leaning back in his seat as he stared at her, content with the wonderful relationship they shared.

As her laughter diminished, Sherlock smiled.

"What?" asked Rebecca blushing as she lifted her wine glass to her lips.

Sherlock shrugged. "Just realised how lucky I am," he said in a low voice.

Rebecca beamed sheepishly. "Shut up," she laughed, though inside her heart was pounding with love for the man before her.

Sherlock smirked, hailing a passing waiter. "Can I get the bill," he uttered.

"Certainly sir," said the smart waiter with a nod, rushing off.

Rebecca sighed. "I'm just going to the ladies," she said, grasping up her purse, and getting to her feet.

Sherlock nodded, as she strutted off.

It was a couple of minutes before the waiter returned with the bill for their pricey food and Sherlock strummed his fingers against the table as he scanned it.

But his concentration was suddenly broken by a booming voice suddenly calling his name.

"Holmes old boy," came the odious voice Sherlock recognised at once.

Sherlock glanced up as a plump figure came to stop at his table.

"Ah Sebastian," said Sherlock greeting the banker with a forced smile.

"Well how the devil are you?" said the arrogant man. "Haven't seen you since all that business of the break in at the bank."

Sherlock nodded. "Good," he murmured not really wanting to strike up a conversation.

Sebastian's eyes travelled over the bare table, the waiter's had all but completely cleared moments before. "Here on your own are you?" said the man with a judging smile, making Sherlock Holmes suddenly feel very small.

It had been the same at University, the man and his obnoxious friends sitting down in the formal hall all laughing and jeering together while Sherlock had sat alone eating his supper in silence.

He was about to answer with a gulp, when a sudden voice cut across him.

"No, we were actually on a date," came the cheery voice of Rebecca, stepping out from behind the round figure of Sebastian.

The banker looked up in awe, taking in Rebecca's pretty appearance.

"You're his date?" said Sebastian with a frown.

Rebecca nodded as Sherlock placed a wad of cash down onto the table and got to his feet. "We were just leaving actually," she uttered, looping her arm around his.

Sherlock smirked proudly, seeming to almost puff out his chest with pride.

"You're going home...together?" said a flabbergasted Sebastian.

Rebecca smiled, pressing herself close to the detective. "Of course," she said batting her eyelids. "Lots to be getting on with," she uttered suggestively.

Sherlock glanced down at her then back up to Sebastian. "Cant argue with that," he said nodding. "Evening."

And with that Sherlock Holmes allowed Rebecca to drag him from the restaurant.

Once they had stepped out onto the cold, blustery street, the pair burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face?" giggled Rebecca letting go of Sherlock's arm.

As she did so their hands absent-mindedly entwined between them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sherlock gazed down at Rebecca as her face lit up with yet another bout of laughter, and couldn't help but confirm to himself that he certainly was the luckiest man alive.

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**So sorry it was only short...**

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Just so you all know my sequel set four years in the future is up. It is entitled 'The Laws of Family' and can be found on my page. It stars Sherlock and Rebecca and a big, big secret!**

**I will still continue to update this whenever I get the chance though.**

**2 for the price of one...what a bargain hey.**

**Anyway, thanks to those who reviewed: Ceville, Evanescence2189, Look-Me-Up, ILoveHLaurie, sci-fi geek1133, OhTex and insaneradio. You all make my day!**

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Just an average morning at 221b.

"You can't just break into people's houses!" cried Rebecca through the open bathroom door.

Sherlock who was pacing around their bedroom rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"How else am I supposed to get the information I need?" he tutted.

Rebecca appeared in the doorway, a damp towel clutched around her and wet hair falling past her shoulders.

"It's illegal Sherlock!" she said glaring at him. "If you don't stop you're going to end up in jail."

The detective grinned stepping close to her."Well it's lucky I have good representation then isn't it?"

Rebecca clicked her tongue angrily. "And that's the basis of a healthy relationship is it? Me trying to get you off?"

Sherlock's grin widened and he raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

Rebecca paused for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him.

"Ugh...I don't mean like that..." she snapped giving him a dirty look. "Oh stop it."

His lips twitched as he moved behind her, his hands brushing the soft material wrapped around her slender form. His mouth lingered at her ear.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he murmured, causing Rebecca to shudder intensely.

For a moment she was lost in what seemed to be a daydream, as Sherlock's hands ran across her lower back and his breath tickled her neck.

It was at least a minute before she composed herself.

"Stop it," she said turning around and pushing him away. "I've got a lot on this morning, I haven't got time for your...distractions."

Sherlock sighed.

"Look, if you're bored why don't you find something to do," said Rebecca moving over to the wardrobe and rifling through her clothes.

Sherlock was just about to open his mouth to reply but Rebecca cut across him.

"That doesn't involve breaking and entering!"

Sherlock huffed in annoyance as Rebecca headed back into the bathroom.

He lingered at their dressing table, absent-mindedly re-arranging Rebecca's perfume bottles and trinkets.

"Why don't you go bother John," she suggested poking her head around the door.

"He's working," growled Sherlock moodily.

Rebecca who had slipped on a matching set of underwear, sauntered back through the bedroom, as Sherlock's eyes followed her.

"What about Lestrade?" she muttered pulling on her grey pencil skirt.

"He's on holiday in the Lake District," said Sherlock with a sigh. "With his..._wife."_

"Or Molly? I bet she'll be pleased to see you," tried Rebecca who threw him a teasing smile as she made to fish a blouse from the drawer.

Sliding it open, she recoiled in horror.

"Sherlock!" she cried angrily. "What the hell is your skull doing in here?"

With great care, the young lawyer lifted the object from the drawer that contained various blouses and t-shirt they both owned.

Sherlock looked over nonplussed.

"Mrs Hudson was spring cleaning so I thought it best to hide it," he said taking it from her grasp and holding it out before him.

Rebecca shuddered. "You know I hate that thing. It gives me the creeps."

Sherlock didn't react, merely moving the skull to the windowsill and turning back around to face Rebecca who had slipped on a pretty purple blouse.

"Stay home today, keep me company" he said in a low voice, stepping towards her as she reached for her hairdryer.

She frowned. "No Sherlock," she said firmly, blasting her hair with the device. "You've got your friend to keep you company."

She gestured to the skull.

Sherlock crossed his arms across himself moodily.

"But I have nothing to do," he said in a whining voice as Rebecca ran a brush through her hair.

"Do what you always do. Deduce," she said sighing. "I'll tell you something you can do for starters, work out why that washing machine's not working."

"Ugh dull," he murmured, as Rebecca switched of her hairdryer and moved over to the dressing table.

"Or if you're really that bored you can do the washing up, or take Toby for a walk," said Rebecca curtly.

She placed an expensive diamond stud in each ear.

Sherlock gave a dark frown, before snatching up his skull from the windowsill and moving over to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked a bemused Rebecca glancing at Sherlock's retreating reflection in the mirror before her.

He turned back to her and scowled. "To see Molly and introduce her to my friend," he nodded towards the skeletal head in his hand.

"You don't think she'll be a bit freaked out?" asked Rebecca cocking her head.

Sherlock shrugged. "The woman works with stiffs all day I'm sure a skull won't affect her the same way it does you," he said a little snappily.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, moving over to the bed and slipping on a pair of high heels. "I love how you're making this into my problem. Making me out to be the weird one in all this, when I have to come home to find body parts in the fridge!"

Sherlock stared at her. "Where else was I supposed to put it?"

Rebecca scowled, brushing past him in annoyance. "I don't know Sherlock..." she said in a patronizing tone.

The detective followed her through the kitchen and in through the living room where she flung on her coat and snatched up her bag.

"I just wish you'd hadn't put it on a shelf next to my lettuce," she said with a sigh.

"I'm sure it would have still been okay to consume," Sherlock said with a pitying glance as he too dragged on his coat and scarf and made for the door.

"Ugh...no thanks," scowled Rebecca as the pair made the way down the stairs.

"You're far too picky, Miss Francis," said Sherlock with a mischievous grin causing Rebecca to laugh and nudge him in the ribs.

"Shut up," she said as they headed out onto the busy street as the front door slammed behind them.

As soon as Rebecca heard it, her heart dropped.

"Crap," she muttered swinging around. "I forgot my keys."

She marched back towards the door holding her hand out towards Sherlock. "Hand me yours so that I can run up and fetch them."

She turned to him after he didn't reply to find that he was standing with his hands in his pockets his eyebrows raised in an apologetic gesture.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten yours too?" she said groaning before swinging around and ringing the bell.

"It's pointless," piped up Sherlock immediately. "Mrs Hudson has gone to visit her sister for the week."

Rebecca gazed at him wide eyed. "Well what are we going to do?" she asked worriedly as a large grin spread itself across Sherlock Holmes' face.

At once Rebecca read him like a book and with great reluctance she let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine," she said loudly. "Do your stuff. But this is the last time you are ever braking into anywhere!"

Sherlock chuckled as he brushed past her, both of them knowing that this would never be the last time.

At least this was one house where the owners wouldn't prosecute.

* * *

**Please review and be sure to check out 'The Laws of Family' which I will be updating very soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys have not updated this in a while. It is just a little chapter I thought up (takes place before The Laws of Family). I hope you like it.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed my last chapter (despite it being ages ago): LillianaKay2011, barus, SummerParamour, silvermoony77, weezerz2490, Wicked-as-possible, Evanescence2189, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, Sci-fi geek1133, Faith Rivens, MyPartnerInCrime, Vilentiel, OhTex & Ceville.**

**If you haven't already please check out my new Sherlock/Rebecca fanfiction series which is up on my page entitled The Laws of Friendship which is a story telling how they first met and what followed... I have not received many reviews so I'm not sure as to whether many people want me to carry on with it. Let me know if you do.**

**Anyway hope you enjoy this. It's just a bit of fun.**

* * *

"Your move," uttered Sherlock in a low voice as he slid his rook across the board.

Rebecca gave a sigh and shook her head.  
"What's the point Sherlock, you always win," she uttered wearily.

"Not always..." he said blinking slowly.

"Uh yes, always," she retorted with a huff crossing her arms over her chest.

It was a rainy autumn day and in 221b Baker Street, the inhabitants were in the middle of playing a long game of chess.  
Rebecca was losing- of course, but not through lack of trying.

She studied the board carefully but could see no way of moving unless she sacrificed one of her pawns.  
With an angry look towards the detective sitting in front of her she moved one of her white pieces forward one space.

A wrinkled smile appeared at Sherlock's lips as he moved his knight taking Rebecca's pawn.

She stared hard at the board for a moment before giving an annoyed huff and getting to her feet.

"Where are you going?" asked Sherlock giving her an incredulous look.

"To watch the telly," she said, flinging herself down into an armchair and reaching for the remote. "It's no fun if you don't even give me a chance."

Sherlock frowned. "I gave you lots of chances," he muttered placing his elbows onto the table. He rested his chin on his fingertips. "I gave you three opportunities to check my queen..."

Rebecca shook her head. "Yeah well I never saw them," she said idly flicking through the channels.

"You can't just leave the game unfinished," he said frowning at her, but she merely shrugged her shoulders.

It was Sherlock's turn to huff angrily this time, he too crossing his arms across his chest.

Rebecca's lips twitched, but she played deadpan, trying her best not to laugh.

"Get John to play with you," she said, finally flicking onto a news channel and putting down the remote.

"He won't..." uttered Sherlock coldly.

Rebecca glanced over at him. "Why not?"

Sherlock stared out of the window to his side. "He accused me of cheating..." said the detective in an annoyed tone.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, leaning her elbow on the arm of the chair. "And were you?"

A dark-look seemed to pass over Sherlock's face. "No." he said curtly. "John just couldn't accept the fact that I kept winning. He went on about how he had been county chess champion when he was eleven and that it was not logical that I was beating him at a game he called himself the, ahem, 'dog's testes' at.

Rebecca rolled her eyes before turning back to the TV

"You know, that's your problem Sherlock, you're always three steps ahead of everyone, so in the end" she said with a mocking smile, "no one wants to play with you."

He scowled at her but soon looked away when he noticed she was no longer paying him any attention.

The dark-haired detective got to his feet and made for the window staring out at the street below. Rain still pooled in the gutters and lashed at the windows.

Sherlock gave a sigh.

He had no cases on at the moment, and he was desperate for the thrill, the adventure, the challenge of a new mystery to solve.

"Why don't you check your website?" asked Rebecca, reading his mind.

"Already have..."he said boredly flinging himself down onto the couch.

Rebecca bit her lip and chanced a glance over at the sulking detective.

"Well if you're bored I'm sure there are lots we can be getting on with..." she said turning off the TV and getting to her feet.

She moved over to the table idly moving one of her pawns forward.

"You want to play now?" he said with a frown staring over at her.

Rebecca stared at the chess-board for a long minute before looking over at Sherlock with a glint in her eyes.

She nodded as Sherlock grinned, reading her like a book, He sprang to his feet.

"And what is it you want to play Miss Francis?" he said in a low, seductive voice, leaning across the table and moving his knight across the chessboard, his eyes on her the whole time.

Rebecca smiled coming to stand close to him."Oh I think you can guess," she murmured biting her lip, her fingers toying with Sherlock's shirt collar as he let out a shuddering breath.

But before he could say a word Rebecca had leaned across him and moved her own knight into position.

She leaned into him, her lips lingering at his ear.  
"Checkmate," she whispered.

Sherlock's grin disappeared.

* * *

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Just thought I would update before tonight. I bet you're all very, very excited. I can ensure you I am. **_

_**Anyway this is just a little chapter. I hope you enjoy it. It's just a little bit of fluffy fun.**_

_**Hope you're having a brilliant New Years!**_

* * *

**Their first Christmas**

It was well known in particular circles that Sherlock Holmes was the world's greatest detective.

He had a better ability than most to remember and take in even the most minute details and regurgitate them eloquently.

But there were some things Sherlock chose not to take in.

Some things he chose not to remember.

Whether subconsciously he had deemed them irrelevant or unimportant to learn or whether he had chosen to forget or ignore them, John Watson was to learn that it wasn't only the solar system Sherlock Holmes was unaware of.

* * *

John had just returned to 221b after his last (and indeed longest shift before Christmas).

It was December the 24th and laden with bags filled with last minute shopping, John made his way up the rickety staircase, up towards the flat, both he, Sherlock and Rebecca all now shared.

"Anyone home?" he called nudging open the door with his foot and stumbling into the living room.

He spotted Sherlock seated in an armchair next to the crackling fireplace.

The detective remained silent, his eyes staring forwards.

John gave a huff and placed his bags down onto the sofa.

"Its a bloody nightmare out there," muttered John. " Utter chaos!"

Sherlock blinked, his fingers rapping on the arm of the chair slowly.

"Hmmm?" he said without looking up.

John frowned, striding across the room and sliding open the kitchen door.

"Last minute shoppers," said the doctor bluntly. "I knew I should have got everything done weeks ago...but of course... I left it to the last minute AGAIN!"

"Left what?" said Sherlock, his dark eyes flickering upwards towards John who was filling up the kettle.

John glanced over at him as he flicked off the tap and placed the kettle down onto its holster.

"Christmas shopping!" said John incredulously, folding his arms across his chest.

"Ahhh, I see," said Sherlock with a slow nod, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. "Of course."

John frowned and stood up straight. "Wait, you hadn't forgotten had you?" he asked cocking his head at the dark-haired man before him.

"Not forgotten," uttered Sherlock snappily. "Merely unaware."

John's eyes widened as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Unaware? Sherlock how could you not know it's Christmas. It's bloody Christmas Eve for God's sake! December the 24th. It's the same every year. "

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not religious, why would the holiday matter to me?" he said sharply. "But I suppose it all makes sense now."

"What does? The Christmas lights in the streets? The adverts on the telly?" said John with a half laugh.

"No," said Sherlock darkly. "Rebecca's behaviour. She seemed angry when I refused to let her decorate the flat. I told her it was fine the way it was. I assumed she meant to paint the walls or purchase some new furnishings."

John shook his head, placing his hands to his hips.

"How could you not know it was Christmas, Sherlock?" he said stepping forwards.

Sherlock threw John a sulky look.

"Some of us have more important things to worry about," said the detective with a scowl.

"Um, yeah," said John with a smirk. "Like what you're going to buy your girlfriend when all of the shops shut-"

He glanced at his watch.

"-in an hour."

"Rebecca isn't my girlfriend," said the detective narrowing his eyes. "She's my...my...-"

"What?" said John looking amused.

Sherlock growled. "Fine," he said his eyes flashing darkly. "What do you suggest I get her then?"

"What your _girlfriend_, Rebecca?" said John biting his lip.

"Yes," snapped Sherlock, huffing. "What do you think she would want?"

John turned, pouring boiling water into a mug. He gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're the one sleeping with her Sherlock," he said holding back a laugh at the look on the detective's face at this statement. "Surely you should know what she likes?"

Sherlock stared forwards, silent for a long moment before he let out an uncharacteristic moan, causing John to stifle a laugh.

"You'd better get your skates on," said John teasingly, taping his watch. "Time's a ticking."

Sherlock pounced to his feet and began to pace back and forth, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he did so.

He gave another huff.

"Come on," said John, stepping into the living room and placing his mug of tea down onto the table. "You're a consulting detective, surely you can think of something."

Sherlock stopped in his tracks pausing by the door, his eyes fixed on something on the sofa.

John's bags of shopping.

"No Sherlock," said John firmly, reading the detectives mind.

"I just need an idea," he said reaching for the bags before him, as John ran over, snatching them out of his hand.

"Get off," shouted the doctor, holding them out of his grasp. "Go find your own. I thought long and hard about these gifts and theses no way I'm letting you take the credit!"

Sherlock scowled at John, before reluctantly flinging on his coat, stepping through the open door, taking care to slam it loudly behind him.

* * *

Rebecca rubbed her tired eyes as she waited on the platform. It was late evening and after completing a horrendous amount of paperwork back at the office, she was catching the tube back to Baker Street.

As the train pulled up in front of her, she followed a large crowd of people into the carriage as the doors hissed closed behind her.

Clinging onto a bar above her head, she hung her head as the train scooted off into the darkness.

She was exhausted. It was Christmas Eve and she knew that all she had to go back to was a sulky Sherlock Holmes.

Furious that he had not let her put up Christmas decorations she had stormed out of the flat and not spoken to him in almost two days.

She frowned just thinking about it.

Only Sherlock could make her feel so angry.

As the train came to a stop at Baker Street tube station, Rebecca hopped off, taking the escalator's up and out onto the cold bustling street above.

But she had barely stepped out from the cover of the station when she walked slap bang into a dark, looming figure almost knocking her off her feet.

"Oi! Watch where you're going you stupid fu-"

"Nice to see you too," said the baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes, who had just manage to place a hand to the small of Rebecca's back to stop her from falling back down the steps behind her.

She scowled at him. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

"I believe it's a free country," he said darkly, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

Rebecca gave a shrug, looking away at the passers by rushing to and fro.

"So," said Sherlock, pretending to sound uninterested. "Shall I escort you back to 221b?"

The young lawyer gave a sniff. "I suppose," she said with an air of pretend annoyance.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as she looped her arm around his and they made their way across the busy street.

They walked a few paces and turned a corner. As they did so, a chilly wind flew past them, whipping up Sherlock's coat, causing something red and shiny to flash in his inside pocket.

"What was that?" said Rebecca narrowing her eyes at him.

Sherlock stared forwards. "Hmmmm?"

"In your pocket. I saw something," she uttered, reaching across him and trying to tug at his lapels.

He gently pulled away from her grasp.

"No you didn't," he said coolly.

She blinked, stopping in her tracks, a grin appeared on her lips. "Yes I did. What is it? What have you got?"

She made to grasp at his coat once again, but before her fingers could slip past the thick fabric of his coat he entwined his slender fingers with hers.

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but she slowly closed it, her lips twitching up into a grin.

"Come on," sniffed Sherlock, glancing up towards down the road towards 221b. "You must be cold."

Rebecca pulled her collar up towards her chin with her free hand. "Very," she said, before giving his slender digits a squeeze and tugging him up the road towards their flat.

Two minutes later the pair stepped over the threshold of 221 Baker Street, Rebecca giving Sherlock a playful nudge as they did so.

Their hands still remained clasped as they climbed the stairs and pushed open the door to their living room.

Rebecca let out a gasp as she stared around.

The whole room had been decorated from top to bottom with red and gold dangling garlands, tinsel and a large tree that sat in the corner of the room covered with twinkling lights.

John, who was just pining the final garland to the ceiling, glanced over his shoulder, grinning at the stunned girl.

"It was all Sherlock's idea," said John carefully stepping down from the chair he had been teetering on. "He wanted to surprise you before you got home."

Rebecca smiled widely before cocking at eye at Sherlock who had an odd expression upon his face.

She wasn't sure how much she believed John's statement but the thought was enough. She gave the detective's hand a squeeze, before brushing past him, pressing the quickest of kisses to his bony cheekbone as she did so.

As she moved over to admire the tree John, strolled over to where Sherlock stood.

"You owe me one," muttered the doctor in a low voice, as he waltzed off into the kitchen sliding the door closed behind him.

Sherlock gave a sigh, slowly moving over to where Rebecca stood silently, she shuddered slightly as he came to stand beside her.

"It all looks….beautiful," she said in what was almost a whisper. "John did a good job."

Sherlock gave a half frown, before rolling his eyes. Of course, she was much quicker than he gave her credit for.

The cold detective pursed his lips together watching her from the corner of his eye, before slowly he pulled a small, red, package from his inside coat pocket.

"You might as well have this now," he said, glancing away and holding the little wrapped box out towards the young lawyer.

She slowly blinked up at the uncomfortable detective and gently took the gift from his grasp. Turning it over it her hands, she glanced at the label and paused…

A few seconds passed before she glanced up at Sherlock a small smile passing across her pert features.

A long minute seemed to pass as both stood in utter silence, before gingerly Rebecca opened the small red, expertly wrapped box. (Not wrapped by Sherlock of course, she knew that for sure.)

"They're gorgeous Sherlock, thank you," she said as she stared at the beautiful pair of diamond earrings placed carefully inside.

He had of course spent a lot of money on them and put very little thought in, probably allowing the assistant at the counter to choose which pair. But was not this wonderful piece of jewellery that made Rebecca's heart warm, nor cause her to reach up and peck Sherlock on the lips and nuzzle her face against his slender neck.

"Come on," she murmured after a long moment slipping her hand into his. "Mrs Hudson's made us some mince pies and mulled wine."

And with that she dragged the looming detective after her into the kitchen to join John leaving the earrings on the table, the lid to the little red box lying next to it.

In the light of the crackling fire the tiny label could just be seen…

_To You, My Partner,_

_Love always,_

_Sherlock_

_X_

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_**Please review!**  
_


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